


oh my god (i'm worshipping now)

by bibliomaniac



Category: Hades (Video Game 2018)
Genre: (end fantasy tags), Accidental Voyeurism, Blow Jobs, Canon-Typical Violence, Crack Treated Seriously, Degradation, Dom/sub Undertones, Face-Fucking, Frottage, Humiliation, M/M, Objectification, Oral Sex, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Power Imbalance, Sexual Fantasy, Sexual Roleplay, Size Difference, all following tags are part of the fantasy, just for a moment tho, kind of anyway!, the thesezag is a fantasy please note
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-09
Updated: 2020-12-09
Packaged: 2021-03-09 20:21:34
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,850
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27972257
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bibliomaniac/pseuds/bibliomaniac
Summary: Theseus barely acknowledges Zagreus as a god...until Zagreus tests out some newfound godly powers on him and Asterius in one of their battles and instantly defeats them. Now, Theseus can't stop thinking about it, and he won't be able to until Asterius helps.((aka: Theseus is both scared by and gets off to the idea of Zagreus being a powerful god and enlists Asterius to pretend to be god-Zagreus while they have sex))
Relationships: Asterius | The Minotaur/Theseus (Hades Video Game), Theseus/Zagreus (Hades Video Game)
Comments: 23
Kudos: 149





	oh my god (i'm worshipping now)

**Author's Note:**

> title from the lyrics of the song 'oh my god!' by colouring
> 
> other misc cws: blood mention, theseus and asterius are 'killed' in the beginning (as per defeats in their fights against zag in elysium), theseus kind of gets off on thinking that zagreus could kill him easily, there's a moment where theseus notes that his fantasy of zag /could/ order him to have sex? he doesn't, though. one could also argue there are, like, actual d/s elements here but i figured that was all really due to / covered by the power imbalance shit? anyway, i think that's it, but as ever let me know if i've missed something and i'll adjust my tags and/or cws!

It happens in a blink of an eye, but feels still somehow as though it lasts an eternity.

The daemon had been oddly cheerful coming in to fight, this time. None of the usual boohooing or flippant remarks or outright insults; this time, he had seemed…excited.

“I’ve been working on something I think you two might enjoy,” he’d said, bouncing on the tips of his flaming toes.

“Nonsense,” Theseus had said, outraged by the idea, “You provide nothing but another evil for us to conquer—”

“Yes, yes,” he had waved off, “I’m the scum of the earth, I know. Or—the insides of the earth, anyway—don’t distract me.”

“You seem to do that well enough on your own, short one,” Asterius had observed levelly, almost amused.

Theseus had thought, not for the first time, that perhaps it might have been time to talk about their erstwhile challenger. Specifically, their…thoughts about him.

But the subject of those potential thoughts had continued on without Theseus. “—practicing with my mother to learn more about my godly powers—”

Theseus had laughed. “Please! You would not know a godly power if it bit you in your behind!”

Perhaps, also rather specifically, thoughts about the challenger’s aforementioned behind.

The daemon had shot him a withering look. “Nor you how to hold a polite conversation.”

Theseus had opened his mouth to respond, and the daemon had rolled his eyes.

“I should have known it would be a waste of time to try with you two.” A short pause. “With you one, sorry Asterius. You’re usually actually quite reasonable. Anyway, let’s get on with it, then.”

And Theseus had wanted to yell at him—say something about how dare he address Asterius so familiarly, and anyway he’s actually quite reasonable, and it’s the foul hellspawn that lacks rationality.

And instead.

Instead, in an instant, Theseus had felt—pain. He’s used to pain, has experienced quite a lot of it in his life and his afterlife here as a champion of Elysium. He’s experienced quite a lot of it, even, at the hands of the fiend.

But not pain like that.

He hadn’t realized he was screaming until after he was resurrected back in his quarters still screaming, and—he wasn’t entirely certain what had happened, at first. He just knows he had seen him, and that his eyes were glowing, and that he had this aura of—power. Of complete power.

Power, and then—

“Our blood,” Asterius had said right after, having died just as quickly.

“What do you mean?”

“Word around the realm is that he’s the god of life and blood.”

Theseus had scoffed, almost more out of habit than anything else, and Asterius had shot him a look before continuing. “I’m not entirely certain, but I think he brought our blood to boil.”

Theseus had blinked. “Like water?”

“Yes.”

“I did not know he was capable of that.”

Asterius had shrugged. “He said he’s been practicing.”

Theseus has been thinking about it ever since. It’s humiliating, to have been defeated so quickly without even the chance to fight. Not at all honorable of him, either.

But he keeps thinking, also, that it is only so, against the powers of a god.

The gods have favored him with their powers often, of course. Theseus even has heritage part of the divine. He has seen and spoken to gods; this is not new.

But to have faced down against the pure, focused wrath of a god, to be shown with such ease how insignificant he is against one—

He shivers on his bed. He’s never thought of the daemon…of Zagreus…as a god. He knew in the strictest terms that he was a prince of the Underworld, that he was borne of Hades and Persephone. But a god? He’s been nothing but an irritation getting by on the goodwill of his family. An attractive irritation, maybe, to the objective eye, but just an irritation he had been tasked with destroying.

That. That with the glowing eyes and the body clad in pure power. That, who killed him as easily as one might squash an insect. _That_ was a god.

He’s not certain what to do with that thought any more than he knew what to do with the…initial thoughts. Less so.

He hears the heavy footsteps of his beloved Asterius come closer, and he sighs and turns into the hand that cups his cheek.

“You are troubled,” Asterius says, simple and truthful as ever.

“Yes,” Theseus admits, closing his eyes.

Asterius runs his large thumb over Theseus’ cheekbone. “About what happened earlier?”

“Yes,” Theseus acknowledges once more, turning over to face Asterius.

Just as Asterius is well used to Theseus’ usual talkative moods, he is just as experienced in teasing out information from Theseus on the rare occasions he does not know the words to speak, or cannot say them. “Because we were defeated so easily?”

Theseus clenches his teeth. “Partially,” he says, and then sits up, leaving Asterius on his knees looking up at him. “Asterius, my dearest friend, I find myself torn.”

Asterius puts his hand on Theseus’ knee instead, now, a silent support.

“Before we were vanquished, I saw him,” Theseus continues, because at the very least he can hope not to be a coward. “He looked like a god.”

“He is a god,” Asterius reminds gently.

“I know, but I’d never _seen_ him as such, and—” Theseus shakes his head. “I must confess, I was for the briefest of moments…frightened. And there was some part of me, some very small part, that wished…” He falls silent.

Asterius takes Theseus’ hand and presses a kiss to the back of his hand. “You may speak of anything you wish to me, king.”

“I know,” Theseus says, squeezing his eyes shut again and letting out a huff when the dark of his eyelids is impressed with an image of Zagreus. In his mind’s eye, Zagreus walks closer to him, and takes his hair in his hands, and squeezes—

He opens his eyes and stares down at Asterius, resolve firmed. “I wished to kneel,” he bites out. “To kneel, and beg for mercy.”

Asterius stays right where he is, his expression just as placid as before. He does not run, or yell, or laugh, but because he knows Theseus better than life, he asks calmly, “In which way?”

Theseus feels vanquished once more. Caught in a net of his own making, with no way out, he whispers, “Both.”

Asterius only nods. “I see.”

Theseus searches his face for any hint of despair or betrayal. “Please, be assured that you are still my only love—”

“I am not offended, my king,” Asterius says softly, edging slightly closer and holding Theseus’ face in both his hands. “Even the god of whom we speak has multiple partners. I know it does not change that you love me, strange as that is.”

“It’s not strange,” Theseus says irritably. “I have chosen the best partner for me, and not even you may tell me otherwise!”

“I’m not attempting to.” Asterius’ gaze is full of love, as Theseus is blessed to say it so often is for him. “I am telling you if you have feelings for the prince as well, it is all right.”

“Feelings,” Theseus mutters. “I don’t have _feelings_ for the—for—that.”

“I see.”

“And that’s not denial. I don’t—well, I was thinking of bringing him up to you, but not like…purely in a…” He waves it off. “He has a nice ass.”

“Yes.”

Theseus’ eyes narrow. “Do _you_ have feelings?”

“Of a similar nature to yours, I suppose.” Asterius lifts a shoulder in a half-shrug. “He is pleasant to look at.”

Theseus relaxes slightly. “Right. See? Objectively so.”

“Once sexual attraction comes into play, I’m not certain whether it’s a question of objectivity,” Asterius muses. “And you are, yes? Sexually attracted to him.”

Theseus shudders. “Need you put it in such vulgar terms?” He’s deflecting, of course, because Asterius is right and Theseus would still largely rather not think about it, but Asterius is kind enough to not comment, or to bring up that between the two of them Theseus is generally by far the more vulgar.

“No.” He caresses Theseus’ face again. “But would you like to talk more about your earlier statement?”

“What is there to talk about?”

“I wouldn’t know,” he says noncommittally, which means he absolutely does, damn it all. Though the better side of that is there’s not as much shame in confessing something Asterius already knows.

That doesn’t make saying it any easier. Theseus clenches his teeth again before he manages to eke out, “If I do find him attractive, if I do…if there’s something I enjoy about that powerlessness, somehow…there’s still naught to be done of it. I will not ask that to join our bed. He would only enjoy it at our expense.” And if a tingle runs through him at the thought of those eyes looking at him with derision for even the thought of asking, well, even that does not change things.

Asterius hums. “Is there nothing, then, I can do to settle your mind?”

Theseus is set, almost immediately, to ask Asterius merely to be next to him, to hold him like this or perhaps to fuck him into exhaustion so that he may sleep, Hypnos willing without any dreams of Zagreus, but an odd thought worms its way to the forefront.

Is there truly no way, it asks, for Zagreus to be in their bed without—being there?

For example. If Asterius were to pretend.

Doubt comes straight on the thought’s heels. Surely he could not ask this of Asterius. Surely not, not to his already over-understanding lover, not to ask him to play the part of someone _else_ fucking Theseus—

But he had not been averse to the idea, the thought points out, to Theseus being with—and if he, too, found Zagreus pleasant to think of, maybe he might even find some pleasure to think of Zagreus and his beloved together? But no, _surely—_

“You’ve thought of something?” Asterius asks.

Theseus purses his lips. He really is altogether too perceptive. “Maybe. I don’t think…You may not like it.”

“I would have to know it first if I am to not like it,” Asterius says reasonably.

Theseus twists his hands together. He is never this nervous when it comes to anything other than to Asterius. He supposes Asterius is the one thing he’s really and truly afraid of losing.

And it’s not as though this will _do_ that, but still, it may hurt him—

“Beloved,” Asterius says gently, which is something he says altogether too rarely, and usually at Theseus’ prompting.

Well, _fine,_ if he’s going to go and make an effort like that.

“What might you think of, ah…if you were to…playact his presence here?”

Asterius looks mostly thoughtful. “The prince’s? As though he were an unseen apparition?”

“Not exactly.” Theseus wets his lips with his tongue. “As though you were him.”

Asterius lifts one hand from Theseus’ face to stroke his chin. He’s not saying anything, and Theseus wilts. “As I thought, it is too much.”

“No. It’s only—I am not certain how well I would do.”

It is repulsive, how something lights up in Theseus knowing he’s not rejected it outright. “You would do wonderfully! You excel in all things.”

Asterius ducks his head, as Theseus knows he does when he’s embarrassed. “You compliment me too highly, king.”

“I compliment you to precisely the correct degree,” Theseus says haughtily.

“Hm.” Asterius’ head stays down. “And—if I were playacting as the prince. What would I do?”

“Well—I had thought.” He does not like, really, how much he has thought of this in the moments since—well, thinking of it. “You could act him as a god. To act…powerful, haughty, as though I am nothing in your eyes—”

“You are everything to me!” Asterius protests for the first time, gaze shooting up in an honest entreaty.

“And you to me,” Theseus says, running his hands along Asterius’ beautiful face, down his mane, to his shoulders. “And if this displeases you too much, we shall not. But that is why it is acting.”

Asterius snorts, but seems to settle down. “I…see. And then…we would…?”

“If it were all right with you,” Theseus says frankly, starting to get into it. “You could—no, Zagreus could—he could tell me I am but an insect to him—less—that it wasn’t even worth the effort of defeating us—he could…order me to worship him…” Oh, Gods, his breathing is starting to pick up. “To worship him like a god, to be grateful for the chance to brush up against the divine—”

Asterius has been studying his face, and while he thinks it is unfortunately not buried too deeply that he is enjoying this line of thought, Asterius still correctly picks up, “You really would like this.”

“But not if you would not also,” Theseus rushes to say. “If it would cause you discomfort, or pain.”

Asterius is quiet a moment. “Would I need to cause you pain?”

“Of course not.”

“And this…would help you.”

Theseus thinks this through carefully, as long as Asterius is being kind enough to consider the proposition. “I think it might help me ease through my thoughts on the subject.”

“Hm.” He is silent again, but then nods slowly. “All right. But I ask you lower your expectations. I am no actor.”

Theseus is expecting a ‘no’ so heavily that the acquiescence surprises him into his arms going limp, before he grins and draws Asterius into a hug. “Oh, my beloved, you are a wonder, a blessing upon me—”

“Those seem like high expectations,” Asterius grumbles.

“I only love you,” Theseus says, kissing Asterius. “And I am grateful for your love in return.”

Asterius’ head ducks again, but he kisses Theseus again when he’s back up. “Should I just…start?”

“Or I can, should you like,” Theseus says, starting to feel a bit breathless now that he’s facing the reality of his thoughts.

“I can try,” Asterius murmurs. He stands, and—unlike the real article, which is part of the genius of the idea—he towers over Theseus. “King—oh. Theseus?”

“No, I do not think he would know my name here,” Theseus decides, bouncing slightly on the bed.

“But he—I? I’ve known you for some time now.”

“So you have,” Theseus muses, tapping his feet against the floor. “Oh! You know my name, but deign not to use it.” Excitedly, he claps. “Yes, that is it. You think me not even worthy of the great name of Theseus!”

Asterius watches uncertainly. “If you say so.” He heaves a large breath, then points, finger shaking slightly. “Ah…you. You there.”

“Wonderful,” Theseus breathes. “Yes. Yes! So rude, so—disdainful.” He can feel himself dropping further into the small fantasy he’s constructed. “Yes, O Zagreus…O flamewreathed god of blood and, ah, whatever—”

“Life,” Asterius corrects, and remembering his role, adds in a booming voice, “And you should know it well.”

“Right.” Theseus shivers right down to his toes. “I should. I’m…” He shivers again at the foreign word he’s about to say to his adversary—but no, now he is a god, has always been a god, and is ready to show it… “I’m sorry.”

“Are…are you?” Gods bless him, but he’s trying. “I don’t think you’re sorry…enough?”

“Oh.” He can feel his cock hardening beneath his clothing. Already? Already, fuck. “What, then, can I do to prove to you the depths of my remorse?”

“Why do you need to prove anything?” Asterius, no, Zagreus says in a gorgeous, throaty growl. “What does it…what does it matter to me if you feel remorse? What, ah.” He winces. “What is to keep me from simply…killing…you…” He winces even harder, looking for all the world like he’s the sorry one. “Killing you here and now, with no proving done?”

“O-oh,” Theseus moans, shudder running through him. “Nothing could stop you—nothing, if you wished it—but I ask your mercy.”

“Mercy,” Zagreus says, still looking rather like he’s in pain. “Have you earned my mercy?”

“No. No, I haven’t, but I can—” Theseus licks his lips again, and slowly stands, only to lower himself down to his knees by Zagreus’ feet. “I can earn it. I can—I can worship you. Please.”

“Well,” Zagreus says, floundering for a while, and with his head ducked towards the floor in a way uncharacteristic for a god. Theseus leaps up, only very temporarily, to raise Zagreus’ head and drop a kiss to his lips. Zagreus’ smile is very out of character, but he’ll forgive it. “Well. I suppose I am curious. But know that if you displease me, or even if I just, ah, want to? I will not hesitate to boil your blood, or…” He waves his hand awkwardly. “Other godly things.”

Theseus bobs his head obediently. “I know. I’ll do my best.”

“You had better,” Zagreus says. He’s trying to hold back a smile again. No matter; Theseus has a very strong imagination.

While Zagreus usually has those horrid leg coverings on, he’ll pretend he’s gone without today. Perhaps—planning for this to happen, or hoping? Or—or. Or _knowing_ Theseus would make a mistake somehow, in his eyes anyway, and _knowing_ Theseus would not be able to refuse, if Zagreus were to ask…he muffles a moan into Zagreus’ thigh.

(And if he simultaneously preens at the size and muscle of Asterius’ thigh, at the sheen of his fur he’s coaxed out through regular washing with the best of oils, in how he’s obtained the best partner in Elysium—well.

He can compartmentalize just as well as he can imagine.)

He kisses up one thigh, then over to the other. _Stop dithering about and get to it already,_ Zagreus says in his mind. _Or were you lying to avoid your rightful punishment?_

No. No, he was not lying. While he’s not had the feedback of a god, not until this moment—well, sort of—well, not really at all, but that’s not important right now—he’s had uniformly positive reviews on his ability to bring pleasure with his mouth, and with his life at stake…

His life, which could be extinguished at any time by a mere whim…

He breathes in through flared nostrils. Fuck. He can’t let himself get distracted here.

Zagreus is big. Perhaps all gods with cocks are blessed so, though it is unlikely at best he’ll ever have the chance to make a survey. (And anyway, it’s really Asterius, and while Theseus fully believes Zagreus has a delicious mouthful of some kind down there, he thinks the…situation, as it were…might skew things somehow.) Big as he is, Theseus has been practicing to take big down his throat for some time. Almost as though he was made to take divinity—made just for the gods to—to use—

“Oh, gods,” Zagreus says through gritted teeth as Theseus takes him messily down with a keen stopped only by the cock in his throat. He draws back quickly, in hopes that this won’t end too fast, but he’s shown his worth now, hasn’t he? A warm mouth to use, to fuck, and on a handsome man besides…

“Do the gods swear to the gods?” Zagreus asks, mostly to himself, and Theseus would like to think he can only concentrate enough for this question because he’s preparing himself for his next move, thank you. No longer. He licks a long stripe up the underside of Zagreus’ cock, then takes the head in his mouth to suck on it, fucking the large slit of it with his tongue. His hands keep busy at the base of his length, pumping with what little saliva is left from Theseus’ earlier actions.

Zagreus isn’t asking any more questions, Theseus is pleased to note.

His own cock is hard and hot, he can feel it, but it is not time for that now. Maybe it won’t be at all, maybe Zagreus will use him and discard him without any thought of it whatsoever—he moans even louder as he takes Zagreus down entirely once more, holding himself down as far as he can go without effort until his jaw aches and saliva pools from the edges of his mouth. Then, he puts in the effort: he relaxes his throat and feeds that gargantuan cock into it to the best of his considerable ability, blinking wetly up at Zagreus.

Above him, Zagreus inhales sharply and puts a hand in his hair. Not pulling, not holding, just pure affection.

It won’t do, of course.

He pulls off. “O great Zagreus, I wish only to increase your pleasure.”

Zagreus blinks dumbly at him, dick-dazed already. “Wha?”

Theseus mentally edits the response— _I should hope so. You haven’t earned your keep yet, to be sure._ Yes, Zagreus through all of this still looks disinterested, like he’s not just had his cock sucked. He has people throwing themselves at him all the time, certainly, and this is just one more human longing to worship him, abasing themselves before him, shaming themselves for a chance to be close to a god…oh, Gods, Theseus can’t stop the sound coming from deep in his throat now, either, can’t hide how his cock twitches.

(Zagreus, in the real world, looks a little confused. But blessings upon him, he doesn’t ask.)

“Fuck my face,” Theseus says, shaking off his daze and staring beseechingly up at his god. “Take— _take_ your pleasure from me.”

Zagreus, no, Asterius, looks troubled. They’ve done this before, but it usually ruins his throat for a while after. But he _wants_ that right now, wants to be ruined, wrecked from head to toe by a power beyond his ken, to be naught more than a warm hole for Zagreus—

“You’re sure?” Asterius asks quietly.

“Yes, absolutely,” Theseus says, smoothing his hands over Asterius’ thighs. “It’s what I want.”

“If you’re certain…” Asterius coughs and tries to straighten himself again. “I will, uh. Permit you, to…be…fucked…oh, gods.”

Theseus has already gone back to his mind, though, and there Zagreus says, _I wasn’t aware I needed your permission,_ and fists his hands in Theseus’ hair so hard it hurts, and shoves him onto his cock so quickly he gags. He pulls back a moment, but then he drives back in, starting up a leisurely pace.

 _That’s right,_ Zagreus says. _This really is what you’re made for, isn’t it? Hardly more than an object._ He laughs derisively. _For so long, you’ve been struggling against me, and every time, this is what I’ve been thinking of. Putting you in your place, right here by my knees or with your ass in the air, where you really belong._

Tears bead in Theseus’ eyes. Yes, he longs to say, yes, you’re right, this is where I belong, where I’ve always belonged—but he can’t talk, filled as his mouth is, and it takes all he has to concentrate even on breathing. Moreso, when Zagreus starts to pick up the pace, ramming into his mouth and taking, just as he asked—

Zagreus huffs, his breathing picking up more harshly, and he says, “King—ah, Thes—gods, whichever. I’m—I’m close—"

Theseus isn’t playing much of an active part in this anymore, but he nods slightly and moans encouragingly around Zagreus’ cock. Zagreus groans, and slams in again, twice more, thrice, heavy and deep, and comes down Theseus’ throat.

Zagreus closes his eyes as he comes, biting his lip and furrowing his brow, but in Theseus’ imagination, when he opens his eyes, they’re glowing. Theseus doesn’t know what Zagreus will do with that power, and it scares him, and it also excites him to think of being cast aside so coarsely—

“Theseus,” Zagreus breathes, and then, “King?” But Theseus is long gone, deep in his mind where Zagreus is laughing at him. _Look,_ he says, _look how the slut is near to orgasm just from serving as a hole for me to fuck!_

I am, he thinks, desperate, I am a slut, and I need—I need—

 _Why would I care about what you_ need? Zagreus asks, brows raised in an imperious arch. _But I’ll indulge you, since you were such a nice hole. You think you need to come, is that it?_

Please—by your mercy—

 _Mercy again._ He snorts. _Always speaking of mercy._

Will you kill me?

And Zagreus looks at him with those glowing eyes like he’s absolutely nothing, and says, _you’re not worth even that small amount of effort._

Theseus was, of course, distantly aware that he had tackled Asterius to the bed to rut against his strong thigh. It’s inelegant and dirty, but that’s all Zagreus would permit him, of course, another small disgrace. But he’s not aware how close he is to coming until the Zagreus of his mind tells him he’s not worth killing, and then he can suddenly hear himself crying out with such force of voice he can scarcely believe, at first, it’s him. “Oh, Zagreus,” he’s wailing, “Zagreus, oh, please, please, I’ll worship you, I’ll be whatever you want, but please—just this—”

Asterius’ eyes above him are round, and Theseus thinks at first it must be because he’s surprised at how vocal he’s being.

That is, until he whispers, “King,” and points to the door of their chambers.

There stands Zagreus, eyes wide and face scarlet, holding two bottles of ambrosia in hand, frozen in place.

The humiliation is such that Theseus finds everything rising at once, and he comes with a drawn-out scream, still looking at Zagreus.

As Theseus is coming down, panting, Zagreus starts to speak rapidly, words spilling over themselves, “Oh—oh, gods. I. I am so very sorry, I didn’t mean—I heard my name and—well, I had only come—” His face turns even redder. “I had only stopped by, I mean, because I felt awful about what I did earlier—”

(Regret, Theseus remembers now. On his face had been power, and then regret.)

“—And I had hoped to apologize with these—” He gestures with the ambrosia in his hands. “But I—truly, truly, I am sorry, I—” He sets down the ambrosia and starts to back away. “I’ll leave you two to me. It! To it! Or, I only mean—” He wipes his forehead with the back of his hand. “A-anyway, have a lovely…whatever time of day it is…and, ah, I’ll see you both…later. Farewell.”

They both stare out the door after him as he sprints away.

Theseus is the first to speak, though he thinks his mind might have filed that little visit and any potential future ramifications due to it right to the back of his mind. He’s very good at compartmentalization, as he’s said. “You know,” he says, thoughtful. “He really is _nothing_ like a god.”

“Nothing like you were thinking, no,” Asterius agrees diplomatically, though Theseus recognizes that glassy look in his eyes. He’s clearly troubled.

“Not at all,” Theseus says. “But on the bright side of things, I think that might have shocked me out of my concerns about his godhood.”

“Your…concerns.” Asterius is still looking out the door. “Yes.”

“But now you’re concerned, I see,” Theseus says, patting the side of Asterius’ face. “And that simply won’t do.”

He finally looks back at Theseus. “No?”

“Not at all.” Theseus nods decisively. “So here’s what I think we should do. If, of course, you are amenable.”

“…What am I to be amenable to?”

“See, I worked out my emotions about Zagreus as a god by having you pretend to be Zagreus while we made love, right?”

“I suppose something like that.”

“So it stands to reason that since you have troubles of your own regarding Zagreus, and since you never go less than two rounds—”

“ _King,_ ” Asterius whispers, scandalized, looking out the door again as if Zagreus might be back to observe them and learn about Asterius’ sexual proclivities.

“—That we should make love once more, but this time with me in the role of the daemon!”

Asterius stares at him.

“I think I’d be quite good at it,” Theseus confesses proudly. “I have a very good imagination, you see.”

“And you’d like to do this?” Asterius asks, somewhat wearily.

“Only if you would!”

Asterius sighs, scratching at his chin, then looking almost furtively at his still-erect manhood.

“Fine. Let me get the door first, though.”

“Hoorah!” Theseus cheers, positioning himself seductively on the bed. “In my ass this time, if you would.”

“Anything for you,” Asterius murmurs. Glancing back at Theseus, who is chattering to himself about how hellfiends might court amongst themselves, and whether fire might be involved, he sighs again, but this time fondly. Yes, anything for his king and beloved.

Clearly.

**Author's Note:**

> you can imagine what happens after the end however you like. maybe zagreus ends up joining them for real! not this time tho. and i didnt want to leave a truly open ending because...then i thought maybe somebody would ask me to write more of this, and i probably won't XD;; 
> 
> this started bc i tweeted saying it would be kind of satisfying to see theseus kind of afraid of zagreus and turned on by that, and then i did a followup tweet that asterius could probably roleplay but probably wouldn't be very good at it, and then...i wrote it lol. NOT LIKE I HAVE ANYTHING ELSE TO WRITE! ///two other hades fics open,,
> 
> this is basically mostly just goofy and lemme tell you i never expected to write anything with these tags lol. i'm not a d/s power imbalance kind of person. but it's kind of funny to think of theseus being super pompous but also secretly getting off to the idea of being overpowered? lol.... (also. dont @ me for using so many fuckin em-dashes here. i am aware im a fiend)
> 
> anyway, thanks for reading this! my twitter is [@boringbibs](https://twitter.com/boringbibs), which is what i mostly use, but i do also have a tumblr at [anuninterestingperson](https://anuninterestingperson.tumblr.com)!


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